The misanthropes' party: why I'm not sold on sold-out gigs
As all the readers of this blog will know (both of them), I'm no fan of the popular side of the street. Call me a snob (er, thanks), but I really can't stomach it. Big venues, large queues, hyped bands - nope, I'm outta here. After years of learning the hard way (being talked into going to stuff in cavernous venues like the Brixton Academy), I later branched out and found my level. Right at the bottom. The very roots of the grassroots. Not just the toilet venues, but the venues almost too small to even have toilets - shops, small art galleries, coffee-cum-record shops, minuscule bars, DIY places. But now, possibly because of the disruption caused by coronavirus and the long interruption in gig-going, a new problem rears its head. Stuff I want to go to is - gulp - sold out. Sold out! What ... is ... going ... on? I'm referring to DIY places I go to semi-regularly in Nottingham and Sheffield. It's all very alarming. Almost by definition, the stuff I go to see isn't supposed to be selling out. Anyway, I'm er, recalibrating. First off, if these gigs are selling out then I'm probably on the wrong track. OK, we're only talking about 50-75 people in a small venue located in a decent-sized city but even this level of popularity is off-putting. So, no, I'll pass. The music may still be good, with the audiences possibly artificially swelled by a pent-up post-pandemic demand, but the experience isn't going to be the almost-half-empty-and-that's-the-way-I-like-it one that I generally enjoy. Demand may soon fall off, then perhaps I'll be back. Then again, the music may not in fact be that good. Selling out a gig, even in a small venue, is rarely a good sign in my opinion. It smacks of hype. Or just something not quite right (a slightly vogue-ish quality to one of the bands?). Once or twice in the past 20 years of fairly self-willed gig-going I've resisted the urge to run when I've seen a big queue and have bravely stuck it out - Fiery Furnaces at the Buffalo Bar in north London in about 2006, Night Shop at the Moth Club in east London last year. True, both were good gigs, but I think they're still the exception that proves the rule. And there were elements of both these gigs that I disliked - the crowds basically, but also the sense of "communal expectation" (or something) that larger gatherings seem to generate. Something vaguely herd-like. So, no, I'm once again beginning to gravitate. Using gravity. Falling still lower. Recently I've been going to a venue in east London where the total audiences combined of the three shows I've attended must have been no more than 25 people. One one occasion I think there were four people there who were not musicians. As various people in seats near me went up to the front and began playing something, it seemed completely possible that at any moment I was going to be called to the non-stage stage, handed an instrument and told to join in ... No, crowds (even small ones) just don't sit well with me. Once or twice recently I've seen promoters mention that an event of theirs was "sold out". It's standard music biz comms. Let people know that such and such a venue pulls in the punters, that certain nights are "buzzing" or "rammed" or whatever, and people will - it's presumed - want to be in on the action. "Don't miss out", get your "early bird" tix. Hmm, fuck your early bird tickets man. My longstanding disinclination to bother with things that require advance tickets (lately messed around with by bloody Dice) is still, I reckon, the way to go. Turn up at the door, check it out. All the better to size up the number of attendees before deciding whether to beat a hasty retreat.
Of course, this might all be nonsense. And self-denying nonsense at that. On one famous "I'll just turn up and get in" occasion of mine in 2005, I convinced a friend to go from London to Lille (via a car breakdown in Croydon, a return to get a forgotten passport, a sodden slog on foot through a sudden blizzard in the deserted French suburbs) to finally arrive at the venue where we were to see our then-faves Herman Düne. Entrance to the venue finally located, my gig companion and I were confronted with a handwritten "COMPLET" sign. Merde! But no. Even the mighty Herman Düne were not the same mighty Herman Düne at a sold-out show in 2005 as they were at a sparser event circa 2002. More popular, but less mighty. I realise this is getting all very "I was there in 1968 / I was there at the first Can show in Cologne", but what can you do? Do you want me to pretend to like people or something? No, us misanthropes have got to stick to our guns. And we've got to stick together. Strength in numbers. We should form a self-help club or something. All come together. Hire a big venue and throw a giant party. Advance tickets only ...
(PS: this blog was brought to you by repeat listens of this album).
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